


A Lonely Prayer in the Night

by ANobleCompanion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, Gen, Home, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Prayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/pseuds/ANobleCompanion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas prays to Dean as he tries to make it back to the hunter after his fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lonely Prayer in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tundraeternal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tundraeternal/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to TundraEternal! 
> 
> This is not beta'd and I finished at 1 am, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. I will try and correct them later!

Castiel prayed to Dean.  

He watched his brethren fall from the sky, flames from their burning Grace leaving white streaks across his vision and he knew the hunter couldn’t hear him.  He wouldn’t be able to hear Dean now either.  He prayed anyway.  

That first night, he prayed that Dean keep himself and Sammy safe.  Cas promised Dean he would be there soon.  He was coming.  

That promise proved harder to keep than he anticipated.  

Cas knew how to live as a human.  He had fallen before.  While he had not relished the experience, it had prepared him for what he would be facing now.  What he had not factored into his current situation was the lack of aid and expertise from the Winchesters as he’d had during his previous brush with humanity.  

He spent the first night after what he came to term _The Fall_ in the woods where Metatron had cast him.  He grieved and prayed alternatively through the night, punctuated by episodes of brief sleep, too light and agitated to truly be restful.  As the sun rose, however, he stood and began walking.  His first priority was to determine where he was.  Only then could he determine where he needed to go to get to Dean.  

Eventually, he came across a small dirt walking path.  Since it was the first sign of humanity he had thus far encountered, Cas decided his most logical course of action would be to walk alongside the road until he came to something more substantial.  He had not walked long when the sounds of laughter and children’s shouts filled the air.  The trees began to thin and the former angel caught glimpses of houses through the trunks.  

As the forest gave way completely, he found himself at the edge of a quaint neighborhood.  The end of the walking path was blocked from vehicular traffic by a low metal turnstile gate.  The houses on the other side of the barrier were well kept with neatly manicured lawns.  Most of the houses were two levels with little variation in style.  As he moved further from the treeline, he could see more of the landscape around him and noted the mountains in the distance. The walking path had opened at an intersection and Castiel looked up in hopes of gaining more insight as to his location.  The street signs attached to the telephone pole in front of him read “Ross Rd” and “Duval Rd.”

At least they were in English.  Cas could only hope he had not landed too far from Lebanon and the bunker.  Preferably within a day’s walking distance.  He prayed to Dean again, telling him what he knew of his location, adding as many details as he could.  He wasn’t sure why he prayed.  Dean couldn’t hear him, couldn’t respond.  But the act of conversation, even a one-sided conversation, was comforting.  He and Dean had not parted on good terms.  For Cas, in some ways, the action of praying to Dean, of making Dean his central focal point, was an attempt to apologize.  To say he was sorry for waiting for so long to ask for help.  And a hope that he was not too late to still reach for that help.  

As he continued to walk down the road, he came upon a group boys ranging from what appeared to be about age seven to twelve playing soccer in the street.  He walked up to the boy closest to him and squinted down.  “Excuse me.  Can you tell me where I am?”

The boys stopped their game and looked at Cas curiously.  “You don’t know where you are?  How did you get here if you don’t know where here is?” The boy asked with the innocence of a child.  His voice was accented in a way that Castiel identified as somewhere in the Pacific Northwest.  

“It’s a - long story.  I’m - I’m trying to find my way home.”

“We’re in British Columbia, just outside North Vancouver,” the boy said, curiosity still evident in his face.  

“Thank you,” Castiel said, nodding at him.  “Can you perhaps point me in the direction of the nearest bus station?”

“Well, sir, the nearest station is down near the harbor.  That’s an awful long way.  There’s a bus stop just up the street though,” the boy offered politely.  

“Your assistance is much appreciated,” Castiel said before walking in the direction the boy indicated.  

As he walked, he sighed.  He was in Canada.  Hardly a day’s walk from the bunker.  This might be more difficult that he originally hoped.

He waited for the bus to arrive and he prayed.  He told Dean his location and promised to be back at the bunker as soon as - humanly - possible.  

Though Cas knew his journey would be more difficult because of the distance, it wasn’t until the bus arrived that he truly began to comprehend how much he had relied on the Winchesters the last time he fell.  

“Excuse me sir, but you need to pay the bus fare before sitting down.”

Cas looked at the driver in confusion.  He had ridden several buses before when he was on the run with the angel tablet.  He had never needed to pay a fare.  As an angel, he had been able to slip aboard the bus undetected and find a quiet seat in the back.  Now, he no longer had that capability.  As he reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat, he realized he had no money.  

“I’m sorry,” he said frowning in consternation, “I don’t seem to have any money on me at the moment.”

The bus driver looked genuinely sympathetic as she told him, “I’m sorry sir, if you aren’t able to pay, I’m afraid I can’t let you on.”  

Castiel nodded, “I understand.  In that case, could you point me in the direction of the harbor?” he asked, recalling the boys had spoken of a bus station near the harbor.  Perhaps he would be able to find some means of paying before then.  

The bus driver smiled and gave Cas directions.  He thanked her before turning around and stepping off the bus.  

As he stood on the sidewalk beside the bus stop, he felt his first real twinge of concern.  He had no money.  Without money, he had no means of accessing transportation.  During his last spell as a human, he had contacted Dean and Dean had wired him money.  The last time he’d seen Dean this time was in the chaos of The Fall.  Cas had been desperate to get to Metatron and Dean had been desperate to get to Sam.  Though Dean had helped him with the false tasks, he had barely spoken to Cas in the bunker.   _Still_ , Cas thought, _Dean will come.  He will help._  The hope was lined with desperation.  What if Dean didn’t?

Cas reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone - only to find an empty pocket.  Frantically, he checked the other pockets in his coat as well as those in his suit to no avail.  His shoulders slumped as he silently admitted defeat.  He considered trying to find a public phone but dismissed the notion as he realized he did not know Dean’s number.  The hunter had programed the latest contact information for the Winchester series of phones into Cas’s phone months ago.  The angel had never had a need to actually dial the number, he always pulled it up from the address book the way Sam had shown him.  

Unsure of what else to do, Castiel started walking in the direction of the harbor indicated by the bus driver.  

The walk itself took a little over an hour, but to Cas, it felt significantly longer.  Over the course of the walk, he began to realize several of his human limitations.  His legs were sore - he was pretty sure he felt the muscles in his upper thigh twitching slightly in protest at the prolonged use.  After all, he had hiked through the woods for several hours that morning prior to walking down the highway into town.  Additionally, he discovered to his annoyance that his feet hurt.  He appreciated for the first time why Sam and Dean tended to favor sturdy boots instead.  

He had emerged from the woods around eleven am.  In the forest, the early morning hour and the shade provided by the tree cover had made his coat necessary.  Now, walking along the road, there was no shade and the heat of the day had made itself known, despite the northern latitude.  Cas found he was sweating and intensely disliked the experience.  

By the time he made it to his destination, he was tired, uncomfortable and hungry.  And no closer to finding a solution to his lack of funds.  At a temporary loss, Castiel sat down on a bench outside a bustling cafe and watched the people within.  Most moved with a purpose.  Some greeted friends with a smile a hug.  Others met each other more formally, with a nod and a handshake - perhaps only mild acquaintances or business associates.  Still others were content to remain on their own, absorbed in a book, a paper, or busily writing their thoughts out on computer and notebook alike.  Castiel envied their surety.  

Again, he closed his eyes and prayed to a hunter half a continent away.   _Dean.  I am at a loss.  I_ will _get to you.  I_ am _coming.  But I don’t know how.  What do I do? How do I survive as a human without you?_  Cas wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to the later.  If he was going to be a human, he wanted to be a Winchester.

His eyes drifted over to the small bookshop next to the cafe.  Just outside the door was a turning rack filled with maps.  The rack was directly next to a recently vacated table that had yet to be cleared away.  A neglected muffin sat abandoned on the plate.  Cas moved forward quickly under the guise of investigating the maps.  As he did so, he palmed the muffin, grateful for the size of his pockets.  

Turning back to the maps, he realized one might genuinely come in handy if he wanted to find the quickest route to Dean and Sam.  He pulled one off the rack and slipped it into the front lapel of his coat.  He felt a momentary twinge in his conscious for the action, but realized the Winchester method of using a falsified credit card was much the same method with only the upfront appearance of legality.  Castiel acknowledged the necessity of the action and vowed to repeat it as little as possible.  

Having now stolen two items, Cas felt the need to move away to a more discrete location.  Fortunately, about half a block away, he found an open green space with a grove of trees at one end.  He gratefully sank to the ground against one of the trunks, reveling in the shade the branches above provided.  He opened the map and surveyed it in dismay.  As the route cut would necessarily cut through both mountain and desert, he decided his best chance would be to stick along major road systems as they would most likely provide points of respite and a smoother journey.  However, according to the map, this would make his trek roughly 1700 miles.  If he continued non-stop without sleep, he would reach Dean in just under 24 days.  However, considering his current level of exhaustion, he knew accomplishing this was impossible.  

He decided to set a smaller task for himself first.  Looking at the map again, he calculated it would take him approximately eleven hours to reach the Canada-United States border if he followed the Pacific Highway.  Sighing, he ate his stolen muffin and then pushed off the ground and away from the tree.  He squinted as he stepped back into the bright sunlight.  

 _Dean,_ he prayed, _please lend me your stubborn strength._ He started walking.

 

* * *

 

Cas did not make it to the border the same day.  He was forced to rest fairly soon after the sun descended beyond the horizon.  Fortunately, it was late summer and the road was lined with farmland.  He found a cornfield that provided both shelter and dinner and fell asleep almost immediately, despite the hard ground.  He thought of all the nights he’d watched Dean sleep in Purgatory.  The hunter had never complained once.  Castiel took his cue from him.  

Before the sun had even begun to peak over the horizon again, Castiel was up and moving.  He found it far more pleasant to travel at night than during the heat of the day and he reached the border around nine am.  He had thought to simply walk across.  The conventions of humans and politics had not occurred to him.  

“And where do you think you’re going, sir?” a man in uniform asked him sharply as he attempted to walk past the structure the cars on the highway were passing through.  

Cas frowned at the question.  He wasn’t sure why this stranger cared where he was going.  However, look on the man’s face brooked little argument, so Cas responded.  “Lebanon, Kansas.”

The man’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.  “Awfully long way to Kansas for a man on foot.  I presume you have the appropriate paperwork somewhere in that coat of yours?” He eyed Castiel up and down, his eyes narrowing as he took in the ex-angel’s appearance.  

Castiel realized then he must look similar to his reappearance from purgatory.  He had not showered since The Fall and had slept on the ground for two days straight.  His coat was dirty and wrinkled.  The exertion from walking had left him with a sour smell and he could only imagine what his hair looked like.  There was very little he could do about any of that so he chose instead to focus on the officer’s words rather than his scrutiny.  

“Papers?” he asked, tilting his head.  

“Yes, son, your papers.  Your ID and passport.  They’re required to cross the border.”  

Cas looked down and frowned.  He didn’t have any form of ID.  Again, this was something Sam and Dean would have thought of ahead of time.  They would have known something like this would be required.  

Yes.  Cas could survive as a human.  He could hunt, fight and feed himself.  However, there were many things that he had simply never been exposed to, never experienced and so didn’t know to expect them.  With his Grace, or in the presence of the Winchesters money had never been an issue.  Identification had never been an issue.  Transportation had never been an issue.  Even more than he longed for his wings, Cas found himself longing for the backseat of the Impala.  The comfort and companionship of his best friends - his family of choice.   

“No, I don’t have papers, I’m sorry.”

The posture of the man in front of him changed instantly.  His back became ramrod straight, and the somewhat genial, if slightly suspicious expression hardened into stern lines.

“You can’t cross the border without papers.  You will have to turn around now.  I suggest you do so quickly and without trouble please.”

Cas was struck with the sudden urge to snap at the man, put him in his place and inform him, “ _I’m an angel, you ass,_ ” but knew that such actions would only be counter productive.  Besides, he was an angel no longer. This man was not responsible for Cas’s current situation and did not deserve his frustration.  

Instead Cas nodded and turned back in the direction he came from.  He backtracked a short way to a strand of trees he had passed earlier and took shelter from the coming day there as he spread his map out before him.  Already it was becoming dog eared and Cas knew he would have to be careful with it if he wanted it to last the remainder of the journey.  He examined the map and decided if he crossed at a location away from a major highway, he was less likely to be stopped.  After all, the Canadian-US border was extensive.  There was no possibility it could be fully monitored along it’s length.  

Having made up his mind, Cas removed his coat and folded it under his head.  He would sleep during the day and cross at night.   _Dean, give me a hunter’s luck and skill_.  

 

* * *

 

Cas successfully crossed the border without incident that night and began his journey across the US landscape.  He soon found his estimate of two months was grossly optimistic.  His first challenge was crossing the Cascade Mountains.  The trip took him three weeks and when he emerged in the Columbian Basin, his coat was tattered and his suit hung loosely on his frame.  The hours of walking, coupled with irregular access to food had resulted in drastic weight loss.  

He had taken to praying to Dean in a constant stream.  Sometimes he asked the hunter for help, sometimes he just described what was around him.  The flow of thought was the only thing that kept him sane some days.  He had not even made it out of Washington state.  He fared a little better in the basin, despite the far more arid climate.  He was still traveling at night, so his greatest concern regarding the heat and sun was finding shelter during the day.  

By the time he reached the Spokane Valley, he had begun to despair that he would succeed after all.   _Please, Dean.  Come find me.  I need you_ , Cas prayed with all his might.  He had no faith in Heaven, but he still had faith in Dean.  Some mornings, just as he settled on the verge of asleep and awake, he thought he felt a response.  A soft reassurance that simply said, _Hang on, I’m coming_. Cas knew it was his imagination, but he still clung to the feeling like a lifeline; it was the strength that got him moving each night as the sun went down.  

He was halfway through the Rockies when it happened.  Already weakened from fatigue and hunger, his response time was slower than it should have been.  He felt the rumble of the earth before he heard the thunder that heralded the rock slide.  Though Cas moved in time to avoid the largest of the boulders, as he dodged for shelter he felt the heavy impact of a stone missile against his leg.  The resounding _crack_ confirmed the bone was broken.  Cas cried out, but managed to pull himself out of range for the rest of the slide.

When the sky ceased to fall around him, Cas took stock of his situation.  There was a large tear in his pants.  Fortunately, it was not a compound fracture.  He tried to stand, but the leg immediately gave way beneath him.   _Dean!!_ He called out silently.  The prayer was filled with his fear and despair and no expectation of an answer.  

Nonetheless, the thought of the hunter forced him to think like a hunter.  He needed to splint the leg.  Then, he needed to find something to use as a makeshift walking stick.  He was still traveling along the road, so the path was smooth, if still graduated to the contour of the mountain.  Fortunately, given the late hour, this stretch of road had been empty during the slide, so no one else had been injured.  He considered briefly waiting for the emergency vehicles that would come to clear the slide and to check for casualties.  The thought of explaining his non-existence however, encouraged him to keep moving, despite the injury.  

The process of finding two strips of wood the appropriate length for a splint was arduous to say the least.  He was forced to sacrifice his suit jacket to create strips to tie the makeshift cast.  He would miss the additional warmth during the evenings in the mountains, despite the late summer season.  

After he finished, he decided to rest for the remainder of the day.  Moving away from the road, and down the mountain a little, he found a small sheltered area with a stream nearby.  He would wait until the morning before figuring out how he would climb back up to the road.  

 _I’m sorry, Dean.  This is going to take longer than I thought_ , Cas prayed, pain lacing his thoughts.   _I’m trying.  I’m not sure how much more I have left in me.  I’ve found a place to stay for the night._  Cas pictured the small shelter in his mind.  

_I should be alright here for a little while at least._

Only then did he realize he had already acknowledged he would not be able to move on the next day.   _I have running water.  If I’m lucky there will be some berries nearby._

He leaned his back against the wall of the mountain behind him.  His mind began to drift, hovering close to sleep. It was one of those nights he felt like he was getting a response back.   _Don’t you_ dare _give up, Cas.  I’m coming.  I’ll find you_.  Cas yearned for it to be more than wishful thinking.

 

* * *

 

When Cas awoke again, it was around midday his head felt foggy and he wondered if the lucidity he’d experienced the previous day had been little more than adrenaline.  A light mist had started to fall and though he was mostly sheltered by an overhang in the side of the mountain, the damp still reached him.  The pain in his leg confirmed he would not be able to move anywhere anytime soon.  It had already been several days since he had eaten anything more substantial than a handful of berries at a time.  Between the hunger and the pain, the fog in his mind thickened and he started to feel light headed and unfocused.  

He prayed, but his stream of thought was loose and muddled, even to him.  Still, he continued to pray.  On the edge of delirium, the feeling that Dean was calling back to him grew more persistent.  As Cas’s own prayers began to fade with his ability to maintain coherent thought, the voice on the edge of his mind grew stronger and more panicked.  It was Dean shouting his name and begging him to hang on just a little bit longer.  

Cas smiled sadly to himself.   _I’m so sorry, Dean.  I tried_.  His heart twisted with the thought that he had never truly made up with his friend - that he didn’t even know if Sam was dead or alive.  He hurt with the knowledge he had never been able to convince Dean of his own self worth, of the many reasons _why_ Cas was always so ready to sacrifice himself for Dean’s security and peace of mind.  

Just as Cas drifted to an unconsciousness deeper than sleep, he thought he heard his name in a desperate, audible cry followed by a crash of underbrush.  But that was impossible of course.  

 

* * *

 

When Cas woke again, it was a surprise.  He had expected his moments against the mountain to be his last.  Instead, he found himself lying out on a soft surface, covered with a blanket.  A beeping in the background indicated he was in a hospital.  He opened his eyes and blinked at the white, generic ceiling tiles above him.  As his senses filtered back to him, he realized there was a weight against the mattress near his side.  He turned his head to look down at the source and stifled a sob.  His hunter lay with his arms crossed under his head, seeming to need the connection with the former angel even in sleep.  

Castiel had prayed to Dean, and Dean had answered.  


End file.
